2014-01-15 - SDR: Where in the World is Clint Barton?
America came into the apartment the usual way ducking into the upper level window. She knew Clint was off helping with Shield things, and that was fine with her--She never was one to want to get involved in public things. Or semi-public as the case may have been as of last night. Yet she expected him to have returned. Yet that rumpled bed was still rumpled and not in the way it was after being slept in recently. Curious she starts down the stairs to the main area of the apartment calling out, "Hey, who's home?" He DID have the kid now. Adam sat up, bleary-eyed, from where he had been sleeping on the couch. Most of the downstairs area had been boxed up--haphazardly, to be honest, but it's been done. Clint's room was the only place left untouched. "Me?" he asks towards the stairs. "Uh... who's there?" He grabs his crossbow off the floor beside the couch-- but Lucky doesn't seem to care about the 'intruder', and Unlucky just yawns with a flash of tiny pink mouth and needle sharp teeth. "Someone who's going to be very annoyed at you if you fire a toothpick off at me, chico," America responds with a shake of her head as she strides over to the couch. Reaching out she ruffles Adam's hair annoyingly with a smirk. "I'm going to guess he's not back yet. You eaten? I could go for some pancakes." Not that she was going to cook. Not in THIS house. Apartment. ... Hole. "Um..." Adam rubs the back of his neck, thinking. He smells vaguely like beer, and his eyes are bloodshot and bleary. "I don't know if I can food," he replies. "And nah... he was supposed to be back last night, but I figured he... you know." Adam looks at America pointedly. "WIth you." America lifts an eyebrow at that. "No." The reply is simple and said without any further explanation. There wasn't any needed. It only takes one look over him to roll her eyes with a soft snort. "Can't hold your liquor shouldn't drink it." This said from the girl that can drink a dozen beers without a buzz. And only a few drinks of vodka does her in. Damn potato booze. Turning away she heads into the kitchen to flip open the cupboards with a frown before turning to one of the shitty packed boxes to rummage for a cup. Finding one from 7-11 she fills it with water and walks it back to offer to Adam. Adam looks at the water in the cup, and his eyes widen. Then the purple haired miniature Clint scrambles towards the bathroom quickly, disturbing the napping animals. The sounds of vomiting can be heard for a minute or two, followed by silence, and then running water. Adam comes out, his face still damp from being washed off, looking somehow less and yet more miserable. America steps out of the way quickly only to grimace. At least he made it to the bathroom. Sighing slightly she places the cup down on the coffee table. While he's otherwise distracted in the bathroom she jogs back up the stairs only to return with the bottle of asprin that Clint always kept by the bedside for the same reason. Lobbing the bottle toward him when he comes out she says again, "Food, then we can figure out where Clint is. Nat's probably making him do paperwork or something." Adam swallows the water and the pills, nodding slightly. "I think I can do food now," he agrees. "I tried texting him last night, but he didn't respond. That's why I figured he was off... you know. Because he totally does not respond to texts if he's trying to get laid." "Or on an op. Or rather on an op where someone's watching him and will yell at him," America has to amend because, let's face it, there were plenty of times that he let her know exactly what was going on. With a frown she pulls out her Starkphone 5 to jot a quick text to him to see if he responds to HER at all. "Hmm. Why're you drunk anyway? You shouldn't drink alone." "Normally Clint and I play quarters," Adam responds, rubbing his temples. "It helps with aim. I tried playing it by myself last night. Sooo not a game you play alone." Yeah. Clint probably is not the best role model, did we mention that? "I don't think he would have opped without at least letting me know, right?" Adam asks with a pained look. "I mean, I'm not supposed to leave the apartment until he gets back, right? So if he was opping instead of coming back yesterday after the SHIELD prison... thing... whatever... you'd think he'd at least let me know I could go to the Academy or something." "Yeah. I don't know. It's Clint; he doesn't always do that thinking thing." America continues to stare at her phone with a frown as no response comes over. Usually it was almost instant for him if not always legible. Shifting her weight to one foot she swings her leg out toward him giving him a nudge lightly. "Come on. You feel up to breakfast food or you want something more interesting? We can hit the Academy, too." Another text is jotted off, this time to Natasha. "You're gonna vouch for me if Clint gets pissed that I left the apartment, right?" Adam says seriously. "He was super pissed the other day. I'm supposedly grounded for life, and I really don't want to see him play the Dad card again. It's really weird." America snorts faintly. "Come on. I'm tons of more responsible than he is. Besides it's not like he keeps FOOD in here," she remarks while eyeing the multiple boxes of Cheerios on top of the fridge warily. Who knew how long those had been there? "Aight." Adam stands up. "Food sounds great. Just nothing spicy or crazy, I might throw that back up." He shrugs. "Well, there's cereal. And a few freezer meals," he shrugs. "I mean. There's some food." "Why'd he ground you? Clint doesn't seem the sort to do that without good reason." A sidelong glance is cast to Adam curiously as she heads for the door opting to walk and allowing him to keep up. It would be easy to fly but he didn't seem in the position to do so and she rather prefered not to be thrown up on. "And I think that your grounding wouldn't include the Academy since it's considered a school." "No clue what it includes. He said stay in the apartment and pack. So That's what I did." Adam shrugs, following America. "And I went superheroing with the Titans without telling him first. Apparently that isn't allowed or something." And he lied about a few things, but whatever. "Anyways, he flipped his shit when I got in. Sounded like some old guy trying to be my dad or something--" and Adam begins mimicking Clint in parent mode, "'You didn't tell me first! You could have been hurt! Did you get hurt? Rawr rawr rawr running around with Bats you'll catch rabies, rawr they need to stay away from my kid and I'm a giant worryhawk.'" America slowly lifts her eyebrow at mention of running around with Bats. She'd met Batman and he didn't seem to be the type to let kids run around with him. Especially outsiders so far as Gotham was concerned. "Right. The Titans are a bit heavy-hitter though so that's actually kind of dangerous for you to get in with things they do. Still, you're here, so you must not have fucked up too bad." "Nah," Adam shrugs. "I held my own. Nothing even touched me. I was even useful. Nightwing said so." He grins. "I've never seen Clint all... weird like that though. I mean, he was seriously pissed. He lectured me and grounded me. It's like, who is this guy in Clint's skin, you know?" America glances aside at Adam when he starts to go on about how Clint was such a different person. Slowly she smiles. "Means he cares about you. Weird, huh? You ought to see how he reacts whenever Natasha is injured. Me he doesn't worry about so much because I'm tough, but the people who can get hurt like him? Yeah. He worries. If he were there it probably would have been different. He would have felt like he could protect you--but he wasn't so he felt helpless." Smirking she adds, "He doesn't like that." Adam doesn't respond to that for awhile. He seems a little thoughtful, withdrawn. "Huh." "Well," he says, "I'm trying /not/ to piss him off further. That's why I got all the packing done. You know he bought a gym? We're going to live there. It'll be awesome." "If you ever tell him I said any of this you'll find yourself hanging off a flagpole." America smirks as she lightly nudges Adam in the side with her elbow. "Feeling more alive at least? There's this mexican hot-dog truck next block over with amazing churros." Leave it to New York. "Tell me what?" Adam replies. "And yeah, sure. Food. I'm starving now." He grins. "I just hope he calls soon or something. I can't move the boxes into the new place without him, he's got the keys. We were supposed to do that today." "Eh, I can get us in if we need. Without breaking any doors, even." America considers the implications of the move for a short bit. "A gym, huh? I haven't seen it yet. I /guess/ I can help with hauling things. Sure we shouldn't just burn most of it though?" "Ha. Not unless you want to see explosions," Adam grins. "There's a lot of chemicals and c4 and whatnot scattered through the stuff in that apartment." Because Client can't be bothered to work like a normal person in a lab. Nope. Coffee table and Netflix, baby. "Yeah, I left the window to my room unlocked last time we were there," he admits, "so if it comes down to it, I can get in that way. But still. Like, I can't rent the truck. Gotta be old for that. Clint was supposed to go get one when he woke up this morning." Adam sighs. "Whatever. Work must have eaten him." "Or he's skillfully avoiding moving day by being unreachable so that the rest of us have to pick up the slack." America frowns with eyes narrowing as she considers her own words. That WOULD be a Clint move. Before she has time to think of it overly long the truck she'd mentioned comes into view along with the smell of savory items for sale. Lifting a hand she gestures toward the food truck invitingly, "Take your pick. I've got this. May as well use some of my money now and then." Adam looks over the trust and orders a couple soft tacos and a churro, along with a Snapple. "I hope not," Adam grumbles in response to America's theory. "He said we'd make chili afterwards. I mean, we had /plans/." He actually looks... hurt. Disappointed. For a moment, then he, at least on the surface, brushes it off. "Whatever. If he doesn't help, he doesn't get a say in how things get set up." "Yeah... but sounds like he just went all parental on you the other night," America reminds him. Her own order is a burrito for easy travel though it's a breakfast burrito with sausage and eggs, and a coke. Mexican real-sugar style like she loved. The cash for it is forked over and she grins back at him. "You've got to keep in mind he's getting used to this 'being an adult' thing still. He might need some time to let it sink in." "I guess." Adam winces. "Thanks for breakfast, by the way," he says, chewing on a bite of his first taco. "You think he just bailed to avoid moving? Ugh. Are you old enough to rent a truck? I mean, I have enough cash for it, but I can't drive and I wouldn't be old enough if I could." "I'm eighteen but I don't need to rent a truck. I can just punch a hole in the wall." Wait what? America smirks in that knowing manner with eyes twinkling as if she knew something he didn't. Winking at Adam she adds, "I know a trick or two other than just being strong. Don't worry. I'll make it easy. And no I think he might be avoiding it because it's an 'adult' thing and he refuses to admit he is one." Adam lifts a brow. "Ohhhh...kay then. Well, whatever, just don't ruin the apartment or the new gym, because even if Clint's avoiding this, I'm pretty sure he'd be pissed if there were holes." He finishes the first taco and starts on the second. "And... thanks for being willing to help, I guess. Moving is a pain, I did it a lot when I was little." The closest thing he'd ever come to mentioning his life before the streets. America hmms quietly at the mention of moving. "Never did. Never had a place to move from," she offers back before taking a large mouthful of burrito. It's followed with a swig of soda, and she starts to walk down the sidewalk while eating again. "Show me the new place. I need to know where we'll be going." Adam flinches. "Gonna have to grab a cab," he says. "It's out in Muscle Beach. Used to be Joe's Gym." He finishes the second taco, then opens his Snapple and downs half of it. "It's got a balcony and everything. And a boxing rink." Yes, rink. Kid doesn't know technical terms! "Clint's gonna teach me how to fight, not just scrap." He looks strangely pleased. "But yeah. I'll grab a cab, we'll go."